Fighter: The Devil's Highwaymen Nomads #4

by Claire C. Riley

  “I say what you can and can’t do,” he rumbled. “Remember.” His hand reached for the soap between my legs. I froze, my teeth gritting as his hand skimmed against my pussy. “I say where you’re dirty and where you need cleanin’.” He dragged the bar over my swollen lips and I gasped at the abrasion against my most sensitive areas. The feeling was a mixture of pain and pleasure that made me pause. He dragged it up and down between my legs, making my core clench. “This part’s real dirty, Penny.” His other hand wrapped around my middle, his mouth on my neck, nipping at my damp flesh.

  I was panting, my chest rising and falling and making the water splash. My body automatically shifted in his arms.

  To escape his touch?

  To get closer to his touch?

  I didn’t know anymore.

  It moved of its own accord.

  “Stop it,” I begged, my breaths coming hard and fast.

  “You want me to stop?”

  I nodded.

  But instead of stopping he moved quicker, lathering up the bar against my pussy until a light sheen of sweat pebbled on my forehead and I squeezed my eyes closed.

  “You really want me to stop, Penny?” His arm wrapped tighter around me, dragging me closer to his chest. His cock pulsed between my ass cheeks; one small shift from either of us and it would sink inside me, filling me, stretching me… “You don’t like this? Don’t want it?”

  “Please,” I whimpered, my head lolling back against his shoulder. After days of pain and hunger, the pleasure was too much. His hand reached around, grasping my pale neck and gripping it tightly in his large hand. My pulse beat against his fingers, both my pussy and my throat working in synchronicity as he continued to clean me with his other hand.

  “Oh god,” I called out louder as his palm, cupping my pussy, ground against my clit.

  His chest rumbled against my back as he sucked at the flesh of my shoulder before clamping his teeth down on it, the pain almost sending me over the edge, tumbling, tumbling, tumbling…

  And then his hand was gone from between my legs.

  The soap was gone.

  And he was laughing.

  Shame and embarrassment flushed my face, my cheeks growing hot. I tried to push his arms away from me, but the bathtub was too small and he was too big, his too-large body trapping my tiny one within his grasp. It was just a game to him. A stupid fucking game!

  “Get off of me.”

  “Sit still,” he ordered, and when I ignored him and continued to fight he reached up and ran his hand between my breasts, making me freeze. “I said, sit still.”

  “I hate you,” I sniffled, trying to hold back my bitter tears.

  “I get that a lot.”

  We sat together in silence, the warm water cocooning us. One of his large arms was wrapped around my waist and the other one trailed lazy patterns over the tops of my thighs. I forced myself to ignore him—ignore his hands and his touch and the way my body felt electrified with him so close.

  I truly hated him. With every breath I took, I hated him more.

  “You’re gonna burn holes into the wall if you don’t stop glaring at it,” he rumbled.

  “Should I stare at you then? Burn holes into your face instead?”

  He chuckled darkly, and I hated that too.

  Everything he did annoyed me, making my rage and shame and hate burn brighter and stronger.

  “Why are you doing this?” I gritted out.

  He sighed like it was the most boring question on earth, and I lapsed back into silence for a moment. He didn’t like my question, so maybe I was asking the wrong questions. I changed my tactics.

  “Are you going to kill me?” I asked. I didn’t think he would answer me, so I was surprised when he did. I was even more surprised by his answer.

  “If I have to.”

  I gasped, a hand going up to cover my mouth in a pathetic attempt to hide my own shock. Why I’d ever thought he wouldn’t kill me, I don’t know. He’d done nothing but be cruel and fuck with my head since taking me. His one small act of kindness, running me a bath and giving me medicine for my head, had been ruined by him hurting me and touching me when I didn’t want him to.

  No, that was a lie.

  I hadn’t wanted him to, but then I had. His touch had become a drug and I’d wanted a hit of it—of him. I’d wanted the high that his fingers were offering. I’d wanted him to be kind, to make me feel something other than the pain and loneliness I’d come to befriend so well. I was pathetic.

  He kissed the top of my head and tears leaked out of my eyes.

  “Did you forget where you were, darlin’?” he drolled.

  I shook my head no, my tears trailing blazes down my cheeks.

  “Then tell me,” he gritted. One of his large hands came around to grab my face and he cruelly tipped my chin up to him. “Tell me where you are, Penny,” he ordered.

  I sniffled, despising that he’d broken me. “Hell,” I replied through gritted teeth. The piece of black cloth covering his mouth twitched, telling me that he was smiling beneath it. I had pleased him and my stomach flipped at that thought.

  “Good girl,” he said, and turned my face away from him. “Now quit your crying and relax.”

  “What’s happening?” I asked, frightened by the answer I might get.

  “The Devil seduced you,” he replied. “And now he owns you.”

  I hated that he was right.

  “He owns this,” he grunted, his palm rubbing over the sensitive flesh of my pussy and making me gasp and whimper, my needy body pulsing against his hand.

  My fingers trembled on his skin as they hesitantly gripped the sides of the material. I wanted to see his face—all of it. I wanted to know what shape his lips were and know whether his jaw was as strong and chiseled as I suspected. I just needed to see him, not covered by darkness or by his mask. But with my own eyes. I wanted to see my capturer’s face, memorize it so that one day I could get my revenge on him and make him pay for breaking me. Because there was no doubt that I was well and truly broken.

  His eyes sparked with something before he reached up and gripped my hand in his, stopping me from pulling away the mask. My gaze narrowed on him and I watched the outline of his mouth beneath the material move in what I guessed was a smile.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Why what?” He took a deep breath. “Gonna have to be more specific than that.”

  I frowned. I wasn’t even sure what I was asking him anymore. I wanted to know everything and nothing. I shook my head and looked away. I tried to pull my hand from his but he squeezed it painfully, making me look back up at him with tears in my eyes.

  “Why what?” he repeated, his tone darker. “Ask me,” he ordered.

  “Why this?” I finally asked, feeling vulnerable and confused. “Why everything?”

  His expression was hard, dark. Like something evil lived inside him. His dark eyes bored into mine and he let my hand go.

  “Because I can,” he replied simply. “Because I fuckin’ can.”

  And that answer frightened me more than anything else in the world, because he was right. He could and he would, because I had allowed him to.

  He was the king of the underworld and I was his willing victim.

  ~ 11 ~

  Fighter

  I spoon-fed her canned fruit, loving the way she glared at me defiantly with nothing but hate in her eyes as she chewed. Good—it was the best thing she could do to protect herself. Not that it would help her.

  “What’ve I told you about looking at a man like that?” I growled, shoving another spoonful into her mouth. Juices dribbled from the spoon and down her chin, and I wanted to lean over and lap the juices off. She chewed like it was steak and not soft fruit, making me chuckle.

  She continued to glare.

  “That smart mouth of yours got nothing to say?” I asked, shoving another spoonful at her.

  She opened wide and I shoved the fruit in. She snapped her jaws closed and
I dragged the spoon back out as she continued to chew.

  I’d decided to feed her. Woman was looking far too skinny after our time together, and since I wasn’t in the business of starving women to death—at least not unless I was ordered to—she’d gotten the pick of several cans of food—tuna fish, fruit, or beans.

  I reached up and grabbed her chin and her nostrils flared in fury at me touching her. Woman was seriously holding a grudge; I liked it. Never met a woman like her. In another life I’d have had her over my knee before she knew what hit her, stoking the fire that burned within her higher. We would have both enjoyed that. But this wasn’t that life. This was what we had—kidnapper and victim. Devil and wolf. Penny and Fighter. That wasn’t where our differences ended though. Everything about us was wrong, different—not least that she was a Viper and I was a Highwayman.

  I guess even in another world and in another time we wouldn’t have worked.

  “I said, has your smart mouth got nothing else to say to me?” I let go of her.

  I was goading her for no other reason than I was bored and she was a challenge. Her tears turned me on something fierce, but her defiance, fuck, that was what made my balls tighten.

  “No,” she gritted out.

  “You still sulking?” I asked, dipping the spoon into the can.

  Her eyes narrowed. “Sulking?”

  I pulled the spoon out and she opened her mouth like a baby bird waiting for her mother to feed her. Only Penny didn’t have a mother. She’d taken off when she was two and no one had seen her since.

  I put the spoon to my own mouth and sucked the fruit off it, my dick twitching when her nostrils flared in outrage at me taking her food.

  “’Cause you didn’t get to come,” I said, my dark eyes burning into hers as I accentuated each word slowly. Fucking loved that look on her.

  A blush rose to her cheeks. “The only thing I’m sulking about is that my daddy hasn’t found and killed you yet.” Her words were laced with venom but her eyes betrayed a different story, flashing a sadness and worry that her words would never give away.

  I chuckled and filled the spoon again, this time offering it to her. Her mouth pressed into a thin line, her golden eyes never leaving mine. She opened up for me and I tipped the food inside.

  “Good girl,” I growled.

  Her cheeks were flushed pink, anger burning through her that went all the way to her heaving chest as she tried to control herself and not lose it on me. We both knew that wouldn’t end well for her, yet I still couldn’t stop myself from pushing her to that point. I wanted her to lose control and let me punish her. I wanted to feel her skin growing hot under my palm, her body fighting and flourishing under my touch. I wanted her backtalk and scathing temper.

  I was a cruel bastard but deep down she loved it.

  “You’re a dead man. You know that, right?” she bit out just as I was about to give up hope of pushing her to that dark place.

  A grin rose on my face. Not that she could see it, since I still wore my mask, but I didn’t doubt she saw my dark eyes fire to light.

  “If he wanted to kill me, I’d already be dead,” I gritted.

  “That’s what you think.”

  “That’s what I know,” I replied. “Daddy’s more bothered at saving face than saving his princess.”

  We were sitting on her bed, her legs crossed at the ankles and her wrists bound in front of her. I’d given her a break from the cuffs since they were slicing into the skin so badly after all her fighting. Loved seeing her pale skin dripping in blood, it did something to me that not even the tightest ass could do for my dick, but I didn’t have the time for her wounds to get infected, so I’d bandaged them up and used rope to keep her still.

  Hurt flashed in her amber eyes and she finally looked away from me.

  “And what do you get from this? Money?” She looked back. “It’s always money, right?”

  “I don’t need money, darlin’.”

  She scowled, her gaze looking around her dirty surroundings. “I fucking beg to differ,” she scoffed petulantly giving a small snort.

  I barked out a laugh startling her. I put the empty can of food on the bedside cabinet and leaned into her.

  “I don’t need your money, or his.”

  She gritted her teeth and raised her chin our faces so close our noses were almost touching. “You don’t scare me.”

  I slowly dragged the back of my hand down the side of her face, loving it when she flinched against my touch, my eyes narrowing. “Yeah, I think I do.”

  I held her gaze, our eyes burning into one another, neither of us willing to back down, but I didn’t miss the tremble running through her body.

  “You think you’re so big and bad,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes.

  “Darlin’, I’m the big bad fuckin’ wolf as far as you’re concerned.” I leaned in, pressing my nose to her hair and breathing her in. I could practically smell her anger rolling off her in waves, and fuck me if it wasn’t like a goddamn aphrodisiac. “So watch your damned mouth or I’ll huff and puff and blow your house down.”

  “Are you going to rape me?” she suddenly asked, causing me to freeze.

  I leaned back and glared at her. “I don’t need to rape women to get my rocks off.” I sat upright and she looked away, seemingly satisfied with my answer.

  “Good,” she muttered, her legs shifting on the bed.

  My gaze grazed over her. She was wearing one of my faded Metallica T-shirts and nothing else. The tee barely reached her knees, giving me a full view of her long legs and toned thighs. She noticed me staring, her body shifting uncomfortably.

  “Stop that.”

  I shrugged and sat upright, my lazy gaze darkening. “Or what?”

  “You said—”

  “I know what I said, and I meant it. I don’t need to rape women to get my rocks off. I’ve got ’em lining up at my door daily. That don’t mean I don’t like to look.”

  She shook her head, her hands balling into fists in her lap. “You’re disgusting.”

  “And you’re a bitch.” I shrugged.

  “How do you even sleep at night, doing what you do?”

  “You keep on like that and I’ll have to punish you, Penny.”

  She gritted her teeth, her jaw clamping shut to hold in all the things she really wanted to say to me. But her eyes, those gorgeous fucking wolf eyes, were overflowing with fire and defiance as she looked away from me.

  “Good girl,” I taunted and her gaze shot to mine.

  “I’m not your fucking pet! Don’t speak to me like that!”

  I grabbed her abruptly and she let out a yelp as I spun her round and bent her over my knee. Her legs kicked out as I pushed my tee up over her ass and abruptly swung down, the rough palm of my hand slapping against her smooth bare flesh.

  She called out, a mix between a cry and a scream. Her body bucked and writhed beneath me and my dick hardened. I smoothed my calloused palm over the bright red handprint I’d left on her ass, my other hand pressing into her lower back and holding her in place.

  “What are you doing? Get off of me!” she screamed.

  I swung back, spanking her again, harder this time, and she tensed under me briefly before flailing again. I swung my arm back and spanked again before and soothing the skin, dragging my hand over her ass until it was red raw with a handprint that would stay for days. She was a heaving, sobbing mess beneath me when she finally stopped fighting. I wanted to lick the burning handprint on her ass cheek and feel the fire of her flesh on my tongue.

  I leaned down, pushing her hair back from her face and brushing away her hot tears so I could look into her face.

  “Tell me you like it and I’ll stop,” I growled, my nostrils flaring beneath my mask.

  Her forehead creased in confusion, her red-rimmed eyes looking up at me. “What?” she said shakily.

  I swung back and slapped her ass again and she called out, tears leaking from her eyes.

  “Tell me
you like it and I’ll stop.”

  I smoothed my hand over her bare ass, feeling the hot skin beneath my hand. I stroked down over the curve, dipping to her pussy. My tongue darted across my lips as I felt the moisture that had gathered there.

  Her eyes were panicked as I pressed my fingers against her entrance. Could practically feel her throbbing against my fingers, her juices running over my hand.

  “Tell me,” I snarled.

  “I like it!” she said on a breath, desperate to get the words out and stop my touch in its tracks.

  And true to my word, I didn’t spank her again. “Good girl,” I taunted once more before plunging one of my thick fingers deep inside of her. She gaped at me, her eyes widening as I began to strum her body, her muscles tight around me. She opened her mouth to speak and I plunged another finger in, fucking her with my fingers until she couldn’t speak or fight me anymore. Her eyes fluttered closed and I focused on her red, tear-streaked cheeks, desire coursing through my rotten as fuck veins.

  Penny lay across my lap, her hot, wet cunt wrapped around my fingers as I fucked it, strumming her body to exhilaration. I gripped her dark hair in my hand, tipping her face to the side so I could see her expression as we fought for control over her body. Her muscles finally loosened and relaxed against my intrusion, her body finally going with it, succumbing to the desire threading through her whether she wanted it or not.

  Because that was the funny thing about pleasure and pain: they were so tightly entwined that most people didn’t even realize. It was like love and hate or war and peace. They were two sides of the same coin, wrapping around each other like vines; one couldn’t exist without the other. And if you just gave in, stopped fighting against one or the other, you got to open up a whole other world.

  Her muscles began to tighten around me as I slid my thick fingers in and out of her, spreading her wider with each thrust and pressing against the spot deep inside her that would make her come wildly, freely, and with a scream that would thrill me to my blackened core.

  “Please,” she begged as her eyes flew open, her body betraying her and pushing back on my hand to get more friction.